Gilligani, of Aquali
by Aingeal Logan
Summary: Gilligan falls ill just as natives land on the island!
1. Prologue

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any aspect of the show Gilligan's Island. The rights go to, well, whoever has them! Though, if you count the DVD as owning Gilligan's Island, then I would certainly qualify! **_

**_Thanks again to emmadactryl for beta-reading. :)_  
**

**Prologue**

The tropical plants seemed to dance in the wind, accompanied by the sound of the nocturnal insects. The stars blinked in the black night sky, helping the moon to light the jungle.

A voiced sliced through the night, soft in comparison with the sharp music of the island's creatures. It spoke in a native tongue, almost indecipherable. A young woman, with long black hair that was a match with the sky, pushed her way through the foliage, followed closely by two men. They held spears in an "x" formation, for protection, as they trekked through the forest.

"Have not seen new tribe!" grunted one of the men. His comrade nodded.

"New tribe here," came the soft reply of the girl.

"T'Pal, it not here," the man argued.

"Yes, Lintao, tribe here," T'Pal said sternly.

"Tribe has not been spotted!"

"I spotted!"

This seemed to shut Lintao up. His comrade, beside him, rolled his eyes and gestured to the cloth bag T'Pal was carrying on her back.

"Yes, that it!" Lintao exclaimed, congratulating his friend. "I forget to ask! Thank you, Ping."

"What you forget to ask?" T'Pal halted and turned to the two men.

"Why you bring bag?" Lintao asked her.

"I have seen, we must take care of a brave," the native girl said with a smile. "Also, bring back to tribe, so Aquali can get bigger!"

"A vision!" he uttered, eyes wide. He and Ping looked down at their feet solemnly. "We sorry for insolence," Lintao said, Ping nodding in agreement.

"It alright," T'Pal said, turning away and continuing their trek through the jungle. "We not waste time talking."

Slowly and quietly, T'Pal and her guards made their way stealthily through the foliage. After years of moving around and hunting, it had grown increasingly easy for them to slip through the undergrowth without even rustling a banana leaf. After a while, a small light could be seen just meters away.

"Light could signal camp!" Lintao exclaimed. Ping's eyes lit up.

"Yes, it signal camp," T'Pal said, nearly mesmerized. She shook her head, sending her black hair flying into her dark skinned face. She brushed it out of the way before she ordered, "Go back, tell others!"

"Yes," Lintao said obediently, bowing his head as he and Ping spun around and raced back through the jungle.

T'Pal smiled. She turned away from where her comrades had disappeared into the darkness and moved slowly to the light. Soon, she heard laughter.

"Tribe!" she breathed, then peered out through the brush.

Seven people sat at a table, laughing and eating the many different island fruits on their wooden plates. T'Pal wasn't interested in any of them, save for the one boy in his white sailor cap and red shirt, sitting next to a big man in blue. The boy was smiling, and the man was laughing heartily.

"Gilligan!" he shouted, loud enough for T'Pal to hear. The boy replied, though she could only see his mouth move; his words were spoken too softly for her to make out. She could normally read lips, but the language of these people was strange to her. _Oh well_, she thought, _I will learn._ T'Pal shook off that minor setback and focused her attention back on the boy.

"Gilligan..." she murmured, a smile playing on her face. "You are mine..."

* * *

Sorry for the shortness of the chapter! The next will be a little bit longer. Anyway, please read and review! :)

Aingeal


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

A slight breeze moved through the lush tropical forest, rustling the leaves of the palm trees. Gilligan, clad in his red polo shirt and white sailor's hat ran hurriedly through the foliage, glancing behind him every so often as if to check to see if someone was following him.

"Skipper; Professor!" he cried as he ran. "Skipper! Professor!"

He turned around, looking once more for anything suspicious, before he continued running, though he didn't see the man in the blue sleeveless Rugby shirt who had walked up. The man let out an "Oof!" and reached for his navy cap, but stopped when he saw the fear in the young man's eyes.

"What is it, Gilligan?" he asked, lifting the boy to his feet.

"Skipper," Gilligan began breathlessly. "Skipper, I-"

"What is it, little buddy?" Skipper interrupted, worried.

"I saw-"

"What did you see?"

"I saw-"

"Spit it out, Gilligan!"

"I saw-"

Suddenly, another voice shouted, "Skipper! Gilligan! What's wrong?"

"Professor!" Gilligan exclaimed. "I saw-"

"Oh, Professor!" Skipper interrupted once more. "Gilligan was about to tell me what he saw."

"Well, what did you see, Gilligan?" the Professor asked, his interest piqued by the boy's demeanor.

"Well, I'll tell you if you don't interrupt," Gilligan said, only half annoyed.

"Okay, Gilligan," Skipper agreed.

"Okay," Gilligan said, happy he could speak now, "I saw a-"

"I do say, what is all this commotion about?" yet another voice stopped Gilligan just before he could finish his sentence.

"Oh, Mr. Howell!" the Professor exclaimed, annoyed, as a man appeared through the foliage. Just by his smart outfit, anyone could tell that Mr. Thurston Howell III was a man of great wealth. "Gilligan saw something and he was just about to alert us of what it was!"

"Oh, is that all?" Mr. Howell said, chuckling. "By the way the lad was screaming, I thought the stock market crashed!"

"I'm with you, Mr. Howell," Skipper said, "but it _could_ be worse this time."

"It is!" Gilligan cried out. "I haw a seadsunter!"

"What?" the men asked in unison.

"I mean I saw a seadhunter! I mean..." He trailed off.

"You mean you saw a headhunter?" Professor asked, surprised.

"Yeah, that's it!" Gilligan exclaimed. "There were two men, see? And they both were ten feet tall! And they had these biiiiiig long arms and they carried spears!" Gilligan did his best to imitate what he was saying, but it seemed everyone had stopped listening at the word 'headhunter'.

"We'd better go warn the girls," Skipper said. "If there really is a headhunter on the island, they should be careful!"

Mr. Howell looked like he was about to faint. "If there really is a headhunter on the island, I just left Lovey alone in our hut!"

"Don't worry, Mr. Howell," Skipper assured him. "I will go-"

"Skipper, I suggest you and Gilligan search for the headhunter while Mr. Howell and I go warn the women," the Professor interrupted.

"Whatever you say, Professor," Skipper said. "Come on, Gilligan," he ordered.

Gilligan didn't move; he stood frozen in place. He slowly shook his head as if to say "No way!"

"Gilligan, you will come with me!" Skipper grabbed Gilligan by the arm and pulled him along, despite the first mate's protests.

Gilligan stopped struggling as he realized it didn't help. He walked with the Skipper, only this time he was the one clinging to the Skipper's arm. Neither of them said anything.

Skipper finally broke the silence. "I think we can cover more ground if we split up," he said.

Gilligan's baby blue eyes widened in fear. "But, Skipper!" he protested, his voice high pitched and squeaky.

"No buts, Gilligan," Skipper said bluntly. "Now, I want you to head toward the lagoon, and we'll meet back at the beach. And don't lose your head!"

Gilligan's eyes widened. "My _head?!_" he squeaked. Skipper opened his mouth to reword his sentence, but Gilligan stopped him. "No, you were right the first time!" he exclaimed.

Skipper shrugged and marched off into the foliage. Gilligan stared after him, pouting. "He told me to head to the lagoon? Well, I'm not going to the lagoon!" The call of a wild bird caused the first mate to jump. "Yeah, I'll go to the lagoon," he said, fearful, before racing down the path.

* * *

Mary Ann Summers carefully dipped a wooden plate into a bucket of water, pulling it back out and scrubbing it with the washcloth in her hand. Once she was finished, she placed it in a square bucket to dry.

"Ginger," she said, looking over to the red-head sitting across the table from her, looking into her beautiful reflection.

"What did you say, Mary Ann?" Ginger asked, not even bothering to look up.

Mary Ann put her hands on her hips. "I haven't said anything, yet. I was going to say pass that plate beside you, but I can see that you two are preoccupied." Her voice betrayed the amusement she found in the movie star's various poses, but Ginger didn't seem to notice.

"I just want to see myself every once in a while," Ginger explained, handing the plate over to Mary Ann.

"You don't need a mirror," Mary Ann said, having to strain herself to reach the red-head's hand, "you're still beautiful."

"Oh, I know that!" Ginger exclaimed. "And you know I just like to have another opinion."

Mary Ann half rolled her eyes, proceeding to wash the dish in her hand.

"Oh, girls!" a woman cried, bursting out from her palm frond hut carrying two almost identical outfits, one blue and one beige.

"Hello, Mrs. Howell," Ginger greeted, putting down the blue mirror she had been staring into.

"Girls, I need your opinion on something!" the rich woman cried.

"Sure, Mrs. Howell," Mary Ann said, smiling. "What is it?"

"Which dress should I wear when Thurston and I take our walk this evening?" Mrs. Howell asked. "The blue or the beige?"

"Blue," Ginger and Mary Ann answered together.

"Really?" Mrs. Howell asked, shocked. "I was thinking the beige one!"

Ginger and Mary Ann exchanged amused looks, and Mrs. Howell just took it as being her decision was the right one.

"Thank you for your help, girls!"

Mrs. Howell was stopped in mid-step when they heard the Professor call, "Everyone!"

"What is it, Professor?" Mary Ann asked, her brown eyes filled with worry.

"Gilligan has seen a headhunter!" Mr. Howell answered for him, following the scientist into camp.

"Headhunter?" shrilled Mrs. Howell. "Does that mean we'll have to cancel our evening walk?"

"I'm afraid so, Lovey," Mr. Howell told her solemnly.

"Where are Skipper and Gilligan?" Ginger asked, looking around for the captain and his first mate.

"They are out searching for our 'visitor'," the Professor explained. "As long as they stick together, they should be fine."

* * *

Gilligan crept quietly through the jungle, jumping at the slightest noise. He had stopped his frantic run, partially because he didn't want to stop too late and fall into the lagoon. The other part of the reason even he wasn't sure of.

He jumped and did a spin in the air when he heard a twig snap behind him. He smiled when he saw it was only a bird, hopping through the undergrowth in search of an insect. He turned around, his eyes still on the bird, and walked forward.

"_Ahhhh!_" he screamed as he fell face first into the lagoon with a loud _SPLASH! _The lagoon was warm to the touch, but as Gilligan trudged wearily out onto the beach, the slight wind caused the water on his clothes to chill as soon as he stepped onto the sand. He groaned and rubbed his hands together as if to warm himself up.

"It's freezing!" he exclaimed, half hoping there was someone around to hear him, the other half hoping that if someone _was_ there, it wasn't a headhunter. His teeth began to chatter. "I-I'd b-b-better go f-find S-Skip-p-per."

Gilligan began to walk with great difficulty to the foliage, looking searchingly through the jungle for his big buddy. It seemed even colder as he walked into the dense jungle. Suddenly, he broke out into a fit of coughs.

"Skip-" he began, but couldn't finish because of his own nonstop coughing."Skipper," he called out weakly, praying that his friend had heard. He tried once again, this time louder, but the strain on his voice to yell tossed him into another bought of coughing and wheezing.

Gilligan felt extremely drained. The next thing he knew he was laying on the sandy floor of the jungle. He hadn't felt himself fall, and he didn't care, but he could feel himself drifting off into unconsciousness. The last thing his saw, before darkness coated his eyes, was a small figure leaning over him.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Oh, Gilligan..." T'Pal murmured, rummaging through the small bag in her hands. The first mate lay unconscious in front of her, a ghostly white. "What–"

"Gilligan!" a voice called from further into the jungle. T'Pal jumped, dropping the bag. "Gilligan!" the voice called again, only this time much closer. T'Pal took a moment to think, and decided it best to see if the man would pass. That's when she saw him looking right at her and Gilligan. The man angrily shouted something at her, but T'Pal couldn't understand. Deciding not to take her chances, she raced out into the jungle.

When the Skipper saw his little buddy laying on the ground, his blood ran cold.

"Gilligan, little buddy!" he cried as he tried to shake the boy awake. Gilligan didn't answer; his eyes didn't even so much as flicker. His pale white complexion was what scared Skipper the most. "Oh, Gilligan," Skipper murmured. "We'd better get back to the Professor. I know he can do something for you."

Slowly and carefully, Skipper lifted Gilligan off the ground, on his face an expression of sorrow and guilt. He gasped when he realized that Gilligan's clothes were drenched.

"Gilligan, you're soaking wet!" he exclaimed. "Did you fall in the lagoon?"

Still no reply, but the Skipper wasn't expecting one. He would have _liked_ to hear Gilligan talk, but in his condition–whatever that may be– it was impossible. He kept himself talking, though, as if to calm himself. He began to walk along the path, glancing around for the native girl, but it seemed as though she had vanished into thin air.

* * *

"Professor, are you sure Gilligan and Skipper are going to be alright?" Mary Ann asked, nervously wringing her hands.

"Of, course," the Professor said, hoping he sounded more assuring than he felt. "They will be perfectly fine when they return."

"I hope you're right, Professor," Mr. Howell chimed in, Mrs. Howell holding his hand for comfort. "After all, the Captain can take care of himself, but Gilligan is as scrawny as a pheasant!"

"Don't you mean chicken?" Ginger asked.

"He means pheasant!" Mrs. Howell answered for him. "A chicken is far too _common_!"

Ginger and Mary Ann shared amused looks, especially when the Professor rolled his eyes. The scientist was tapping his fingers impatiently on the long table, looking out into the foliage with an ever growing worry.

Mary Ann must have noticed this, for she began to look searchingly into the jungle, Ginger following her example. Mr. and Mrs. Howell just sat, fretting over the situation and making idle chat to calm their nerves. Aside from the Howells' quiet murmurings, the camp had grown deathly silent. It seemed as if the very island herself was waiting for something to occur, whether it would lift their hearts or plunge them into the depths of despair.

It was then that a very desperate call came from the tropical forest: "_Professor!_"

At first, the castaways were overjoyed to hear the Skipper calling, but the urgency in his voice immediately loaded them with even more worry.

"Skipper!" they chorused, just as the captain came bursting into the camp holding Gilligan, pale, limp, and unconscious.

The first words that came to the Professor's mind were, "What happened?" He didn't voice them, though, for he knew by the expression on the Skipper's face that it would be pointless. Instead, he leaped from the wooden bench and dashed to Skipper's side, the others quick to follow.

"How long has he been unconscious?" Professor asked, trying–and failing–to hide the anxiety that coated his voice.

"I don't know, Professor!" Skipper cried, helplessly. "I told Gilligan that we should split up to cover more ground, then I heard him scream. I turned back and tried to look for him, and there he was laying on the ground, with some pretty native girl hovering over him!"

The Professor grabbed Gilligan's wrist, checking his pulse. "Under normal circumstances, that would have been a good idea," he began, "but there are natives out there! We don't even know what their intentions are!"

"Oh, Professor," Mary Ann spoke up, her voice wavering, "is Gilligan going to be alright?"

"His pulse is a bit rapid..." the scientist–now deemed 'doctor'–murmured. Upon placing the back of his hand on Gilligan's forehead, his eyes widened in shock. "He has an abnormally high fever!" he exclaimed. "Skipper, you'd better take him inside my hut and lay him on the cot. Once you have completed that, cover him with a blanket and stay with him until I arrive."

"Alright, Professor," Skipper agreed solemnly, looking down sadly at his little buddy. "Where will you be going?"

"I must retrieve a few items from the supply hut," Professor explained, starting off across the camp. "I will be with you shortly."

Skipper walked toward one of the four grass huts that stood nearly side by side in the small clearing. He glanced around, confused. His anxiety had caused him to momentarily forget which hut was which, considering the fact they all looked the same, save for a few cosmetic differences. It didn't take long to make out the Professor's hut, but once he did so, he raced inside.

After the Skipper had disappeared into the hut, Mrs. Howell whispered, "I do hope the dear boy is alright!"

"Don't worry, Lovey," Mr. Howell said, "the Professor knows what he's doing." He thought for a moment, then added, "If he doesn't a good bribe might help!"

"Mr. Howell!" Ginger cried, astonished.

"I'm surprised at you!" Mary Ann exclaimed. "Gilligan is sick and you think the Professor won't try his best unless he's paid?"

"We're off the gold standard."

"I was only trying to make things bright–you mean?" At the nod from Ginger, Mr. Howell gulped. "Lovey, I think I'm going to faint..."

"There, there, Thurston," Mrs. Howell comforted. "Just because money doesn't matter here, doesn't mean things will turn out rotten."

"But it already is rotten! Not just because of money, either."

Mrs. Howell turned to the girls. "I think Thurston should get some rest," she proclaimed, leading her husband to their hut.

"Ginger..." Mary Ann began once the Howells entered the door.

"Yeah, Mary Ann?" No matter how hard she tried, the movie star couldn't hide the fear in her voice.

"Do you think we should go inside?" the farm girl asked quickly. "You know, where it's nice, safe, and headhunter free?"

"Yes, I believe we should!" cried Ginger almost immediately. Without looking to see if either man was returning, the girls rushed across the clearing and burst through the door of their small hut.

* * *

The camp was deserted by the time the Professor emerged from the supply hut. He was carrying a small bamboo tool-box. Around his neck hung a very crude stethoscope, made from vines and half of a gourde. He glanced around searchingly, and sighed in relief when he saw Ginger and Mary Ann hanging a bed-sheet over their window. Rolling his eyes, he continued to his hut.

Skipper seemed startled when the Professor opened the door. He was holding Gilligan's hand and sitting on his knees by the bamboo cot. Gilligan, much to the Professor's concern, was still unconscious, and his face seemed a shade paler; it may have been because the first mate was covered by a deep gray blanket.

"Has his condition changed?" the Professor asked.

It was no surprise to the Professor when Skipper replied, "No."

Making his way toward the table that sat directly across the room from the sick first mate, the Professor opened the tool-box and dug through it, nearly running into the table once he got there. He set the box neatly in the corner of the table, extracting a pair of rubber gloves. He slipped them on, pulling out of the box a thermometer and a small coconut cup.

"Skipper," he began, turning around with the objects in his hand, "there's something I would like for you to do."

"What is it, Professor?" Skipper asked, eager to help.

"I would like you to go and fill this cup with water," the Professor said, handing him the cup. The Skipper looked reluctant to let go of Gilligan's hand, but he took the cup. He was about to open the bamboo door as the Professor added, "Skipper, once you have gotten that water, I would like you to wait outside for my diagnoses." Skipper looked as if he was going to protest, but he thought the better of it and nodded.

Professor waited for the Skipper to fall out of his hearing range before taking the thermometer and shoving it in Gilligan's mouth. He took the boy's pulse, he listened to his heartbeat, and each time he got the same result as before; Gilligan wasn't getting worse, but he wasn't getting better, either. When he took the thermometer to read the level, he nearly fainted.

Gilligan's temperature was at 105.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

T'Pal stood on the windswept cliff, looking out over the bright blue sea. Her black hair streamed out behind her, her crimson dress trailing her in waves, as she watched the last of the small boats disappear over the seemingly endless horizon. Earlier, she had insisted that the Aquali braves return to their small island home, all except for her friends Lintao and Ping, plus a scrawny little scout whose name she couldn't recall. When he had been chosen to stay, it was obvious he could barely contain his excitement. He was brimming with happiness that he could finally do something of high honor.

T'Pal cast one last look to where the sun reflected as ripples in the vast ocean before turning and daintily walking into the jungle. Almost immediately she came across a clearing, where the tropical flowers bloomed in a circle of pinks and blues. Though it was day, a small fire crackled in the center of a makeshift fire pit, surrounded by rocks. She smiled as she sat down in front of the flame, staring intently at its colors.

Suddenly, an image flashed across it. T'Pal gasped and stood. She looked searchingly through the foliage, but no one was there. She couldn't risk shouting, so she quickly raced into the jungle. Blinded by panic, she didn't see the object that stood in her path and bumped into it, falling back.

"T'Pal!" cried Lintao, picking the girl off. "I am sorry! I did not mean-"

"It okay, Lintao," T'Pal said, brushing herself off. "I not see you, so I run into you."

"I–"

"Where Ping?" asked T'Pal, interrupting the brave.

"Ping is repairing hole in boat," Lintao explained, without giving a second's thought.

"What hole in boat?" T'Pal asked wearily.

"The one I made!"

"How you make hole in boat?"

"We carry boat, and I drop it on...rock..." His voice trailed off when he realized what he was saying. He chuckled nervously to himself for a moment.

T'Pal looked away, attempting not to show her exasperation, but Lintao took it to mean that she felt shame on him. He bowed his head solemnly and said nothing. When T'Pal turned back to him, she saw the guilt on his face and realized what her gesture had done.

"Lintao! You are not shamed!" she exclaimed, reaching her hand toward him.

"I put hole in only boat we have," Lintao said sadly, not meeting her gaze.

"It not your fault!" T'Pal tried to get through to him, but it seemed to her he was ignoring every word she said.

"I care what you say, but I know I am shamed," Lintao said. "You not need to explain it."

"No, you not shamed!" T'Pal argued.

"I said that you not need to– What?"

T'Pal smiled, glad she had finally got through to him. Then she remembered. "I have had vision!" she cried.

Lintao's eyes widened. "Vision! Of what?"

"Of one they call Gilligan!"

"Gilligan?" Lintao asked, skeptic.

"Yes, I will explain later," she said. "I have seen, therefore I know. To get to Gilligan, you and Ping must be distraction!"

"Distraction? How?"

T'Pal's eyes twinkled mischievously. "We must go on the hunt!"

"But we need three braves!" Lintao argued.

"You, Ping, and scrawny kid," T'Pal said sternly.

"You mean Palake, the scout?"

T'Pal's eyes widened in realization. "Ah! Yes, that is name!"

"He is fixing hole in paddle!"

T'Pal rolled her brown eyes in exasperation. "And how did hole get in paddle?"

"I broke it..." Lintao turned away from her gaze once more.

She sighed. "We must make plans for 'hunt'," she said, not even trying to explain this time. "Come, let us find Ping and..."

"Palake!" Lintao offered.

T'Pal nodded. "Palake."

* * *

Skipper fiddled nervously with the coconut cup in his hand, pacing back and forth through camp. He had already spilled its contents numerous times, and had to refill it just as much, but the Professor still hadn't left the hut where he was treating Gilligan. He didn't know much about diseases, but Skipper could tell that Gilligan had something worse than the common cold–_far _worse.

He realized that the Professor was a very smart man, the smartest he'd ever known, but something told the Skipper that even the Professor was at a loss.

Suddenly, the door to the hut swung open and out raced the Professor.

"Skipper," he called out, but his voice was far from joyful. In his hands he held two textbooks.

"Oh, gosh," Skipper murmured. "What is it, Professor?" he asked, handing the cup to the scientist.

"Gilligan did not get the virus he has by falling into the lagoon!" Professor exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" Skipper said.

Before the Professor could answer, Mary Ann and Ginger burst out of their hut.

"Oh, Professor!" they both cried in unison.

"Is Gilligan going to be alright?" Mary Ann asked, wringing her hands.

"We can't bear to think of what might happen if he isn't!" Ginger added. Both girls had tears welling up in their eyes.

"Lovey and I can't, either," Mr. Howell said, startling the rest of the group.

"Mr. Howell; Mrs. Howell!" Skipper exclaimed. "When did you get here?"

"Well, aren't we all stranded on this ghastly little island?" Mrs. Howell asked, confused.

"No, Lovey, I think he means 'when did we walk up?'" the rich man explained.

"Oh, well then Thurston couldn't stand being left in the dark, so he was planning on bri–"

"Brightening everyone's day with a little family humor," Mr. Howell interrupted, giving his wife a look that said, "Hush!"

"But that's–"

"Exactly what you were going to say."

"Mr. and Mrs. Howell, could I just get to the point?" Professor asked. When he got no reply, he continued: "Well, as I was saying, it has come to my attention that Gilligan did not contract this sickness from falling into the lagoon. He had it before he fell in!"

Everyone stood in shocked silence.

"W-what do you mean, Professor?" Skipper asked once more. "Does that mean we'll get it, too?"

"No, it doesn't," Professor began. "As far as I can tell, it isn't contagious. It also isn't listed in my medical book or my book on tropical diseases!" He showed the two books in his hands to everyone.

"_What?!_" they all chorused. Mrs. Howell took one of the books, labeled "Tropical Disease in the South Pacific". She began flipping through the front pages.

"Who is the writer of that book on tropical disease?" Mr. Howell asked. "Whoever published it, they will be shunned! I will have their license removed, I will–"

"Thurston!" Mrs. Howell interrupted.

"What?!" Mr. Howell asked, at the height of his fury.

"This book was published by Thurston Howell Publishers!"

Mr. Howell's eyes widened. "Well, nobody can be completely perfect," he said with a nervous chuckle.

"Forget about that!" Ginger exclaimed. "We've got to do something to help Gilligan!"

"Ginger's right," Mary Ann agreed. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

"Yes," Professor said. "Skipper, I would like you to keep a watch on Gilligan while I attempt to find a cure. Now he is just asleep, but try not to wake him up. Monitor his breathing rate, and Ginger will help you check his pulse. Also, slip some dry clothes on him. Since he only has that one outfit, you can use mine. Don't wake him up, though!"

"Yes, Professor," Ginger said, already heading to the scientist's hut.

"But what can I do?" Mary Ann asked.

"And us, too! You wouldn't dare exclude a Howell in something so important!" Mr. Howell exclaimed.

"Mary Ann, you and the Howells can keep watch around camp to make sure none of the natives come in."

"What if they do?" The farm girl looked desperate.

"That's easy, Mary Ann," Mr. Howell answered for him. "Scream."

"Thurston," Mrs. Howell protested. "No self respecting Howell would scream!"

"There are times," Mr. Howell said quietly.

"Just get on with it!" Skipper shouted, and everyone jumped to it. Skipper, though last to leave the Professor's side, was by far the first one to reach Gilligan's side.

Gilligan's pale complexion struck terror into the old seafarer's heart, he had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep himself from shaking his little buddy awake, even though he yearned to see the boy's bright blue eyes and hear him say that everything would be fine. He was tempted to call Gilligan's name, but he knew what the Professor would say.

Ginger was an actress, but even she couldn't hide the sadness she felt at seeing the first mate in his condition. Gilligan could get annoying some times, but if the Professor couldn't find a cure, she couldn't begin to imagine life on the island without Gilligan. To her, he was like the brother she never had, even though she did try to seduce information out of him every once in a while. And if she was feeling that way, she knew what Mary Ann would have been thinking had she seen the frail looking Gilligan.

Skipper gulped and walked across the room to a small bag in the corner. He pulled out a shirt and a pair of pants and came back over to Gilligan and Ginger. "Uh, Ginger..." he began nervously.

"Yes, Skipper?"

"Could you turn your back?" He asked, quickly adding, "Gilligan is shy, so if he woke up while I was changing him..."

"Gotcha," the movie said turning around, almost unable to contain her emotions but attempting to give herself a more carefree tone.

Mary Ann, Mr. Howell and Mrs. Howell had stayed out of the hut–partly because of what the Professor said, partly because they were afraid they would do something to wake the boy.

"Oh, I hope Professor can do something for Gilligan," Mary Ann murmured, tears beading her eyes. "If anything would happen to Gilligan..." She trailed off, attempting to push the thought away.

"We know, Mary Ann," Mr. Howell said. "That boy is like a son to me."

"To us, Thurston," Mrs. Howell corrected, her voice quivering. "He saved my life once, you know. I could have been killed!"

"Yes, that boy is a brave soul," Mr. Howell agreed.

"He's the bravest, most sweetest, most kindest boy I've ever met!" Mary Ann cried.

"Don't worry," Mr. Howell said. "A Howell knows whenever things are going to be alright."

* * *

"T'Pal!" Lintao called. He and Ping stood side by side, both dressed with ceremonial feathers, cloths, and paint.

"Yes?" the native girl answered, walking out from behind a large palm tree.

"Why we have to dress like this?" Lintao asked, gesturing to the feathers.

"So you look menacing," T'Pal said with a smile. "If tribe do not question about scrawny kid, then tribe will be afraid!"

"Um, T'Pal?" a nervous, almost childlike voice called. "I am ready!"

"Ah!" T'Pal cried. "Come out, let us see costume, uh..."

"Palake," Lintao whispered.

"Palake!" the native girl finished.

The boy shyly stumbled out into view, obviously trying to contain his excitement. Palake only came up to T'Pal's shoulders, but the feathers that lined his jet black hair made him look nearly a foot taller. His eloquent paint was similar to that of Lintao and Ping, though his were more elaborate as if to hide his boyish face. At his waist hung a long machete similar to a broadsword, but the feel it was originally supposed to put off was ruined due to the yellow and blue paint that coated it, as well as the fact it was made of wood.

"How I look?" Palake asked, grinning.

"Very menacing!" T'Pal commented, suppressing her giggles with great ease. Lintao, not so much. Ping nudged him, rolling his eyes. Lintao looked away, embarrassed, and covered up his chuckles with a rather loud cough.

Palake seemed thoroughly unaware of this, and he strode with great pride to stand by the two larger–_much_ larger–braves.

"Good," T'Pal said, "we are ready. Palake, you will lead group. Take Lintao and Ping to camp of other tribe, and wait for someone to spot you."

"What if tribe do not see us?" Lintao asked. Now that he wasn't looking directly at Palake's 'unique' outfit, he felt more secure.

"If not," T'Pal began, gesturing to their weapons, "make them see."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A ghostly green lighting sliced through a pitch black sky, casting an eerie glow on the island below. Gilligan hung helplessly off a weak branch protruding from the rocky cliff, his eyes shut tightly in fear. The thunder, rumbling like a thousand drums, caused Gilligan to force his eyes open.

"Don't look down..." he willed himself, but his head somehow turned downward and he found himself staring at the raging sea, licking hungrily at the rocky cliff. Salty spray splashed his face and he watched, mesmerized, as the waves crash beneath him, rising by the minute.

"Oh, boy..." he murmured. He looked up at the shadowed storm clouds, which had now adapted blood red gashes everywhere the lightning slashed.

"_Skipperrrrrrrr!_" Gilligan wailed, but the thunder's voice drowned his call. Over the storm, he could hear the sickening crack of the branch he was clinging to as it bent down. Gilligan watched as the branch snapped in two; he closed his eyes and waited for the impact of the rising water.

But it never came.

Gilligan could feel a pair of hands clasped around his own, suspending him above the fall. He could feel himself being hoisted up and onto solid ground. The pair of hands still held on to Gilligan's hand when he opened his eyes, but as soon as he looked to see who was holding his hand, the feeling was gone. No one sat next to him–there wasn't even a human being in sight!

He stood and looked at his surroundings, trying his best to ignore the green flashes that lit the melancholy jungle. All of the palm trees and foliage stood, but they were blackened skeletons of what once would have been beautiful and welcoming. It was almost as if a fire had swept through, eating away at the leaves but leaving the pedicels.

The wind began to pick up. Gilligan watched as the charred plants swayed, then snapped. Something compelled him to walk toward the jungle, what even he didn't know. There was a blinding flash of light. He didn't know what hit him; one moment, he was walking, and the next, he was hurtling through the air, unable to hear anything. It wasn't until he hit the ground that he realized he had been struck by the lightning.

Just as quickly as the lightning struck, Gilligan's mind went blank. "Wha–" he began, but was cut short by the rumble of the thunder. He glanced at his surroundings, just in time to watch the scenery fade into oblivion.

* * *

"I've got it!" the Professor cried suddenly, closing the book in his hands. He sat alone in the supply hut, surrounded by beakers and test tubes, vines and gourdes, all of which contained some strange chemical substance. The Professor stood, picked up the encyclopedia and raced out the door, all the while shouting, "Skipper!"

When the "guards" spotted the scientist, they immediately bombarded him with questions. Instead of answering Mary Ann and the Howells, he pushed by them and walked directly into his hut. "You'll just have to wait for a bit longer," he muttered, barely loud enough for them to hear.

When he opened the door, Skipper immediately stood from where he was sitting beside of Gilligan. To much of the Professor's dismay, the first mate hadn't stirred by the changing of his clothes. Ginger sat at attention in the chair right next to the Skipper.

"What is it, Professor?" Skipper asked, hopeful.

The Professor took a deep breath. "Gilligan has the symptoms of influenza, but he doesn't have influenza. I–"

"What do you mean, Professor?" Ginger interrupted. "How can he have those symptoms and not have it?" In a lower voice she added, "Whatever 'it' is..."

"Influenza is the flu, Ginger," Skipper explained. "I had it when I was a kid." His tone grew darker. "Aren't my little buddy's symptoms worse than the flu, though?"

"Well..." The scientist's voice trailed off, and he looked toward the ghostly first mate. "Yes and no."

"Well, what is it?" Ginger asked.

"It depends on what type of flu a person has," the Professor explained. "The–"

His explanation was cut short by a high-pitched scream. Startled, Ginger and Professor ran to the small window. "Skipper, we'd better get out there," the Professor said urgently.

"But what about Gilligan?" Skipper asked, reluctant to leave Gilligan alone.

"What about Mary Ann and Mr. and Mrs. Howell?" Ginger countered.

"Oh, alright..." he muttered.

"And I'm going, too!" Ginger cried.

"But–"

"No buts, Professor, my roommate is in trouble and I want to help!"

"Alright, but hurry!" the Professor shouted as they filed out of the door.

None of them noticed as Gilligan's eyes slowly flickered open. The boy slowly turned his head, taking in the room. Everything seemed so primitive, from the bamboo closet to the chairs covered in palm fronds. Gilligan's eyes widened in terror when he saw the three people in the doorway, but relaxed when he realized that they were leaving.

Confused, he sat up, pushing the blanket that covered him off. Almost immediately, dizziness came upon him and he closed his eyes to stop the swarm of images around him. When he lifted his hand, he noticed how the sleeve rolled down by itself, for the shirt was far too big for his slender form.

With much uncertainty, the first mate stood on the sand floor of the hut. On wobbly legs, he walked across the room towards the window, where the light of day shone through in what seemed to be great beams. Before he got there, something on the table across the hut caught his attention. It was a mirror, but it seemed out of place amongst all of the primitive wooden artifacts.

When Gilligan picked it up and stared into the silver glass, he gasped. Staring back at him was a boy, with dark hair and big blue eyes. His skin was nearly as white as a sheet, but that did not matter to him. Only one thought crossed his mind: _that isn't me!_

He turned around, still staring into the mirror, and stumbled to the door. When he looked at the door, it wasn't there. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead, all he could say was, "Huh?" Suddenly, he began to cough. He tried his best to keep the coughing quiet, so as to not attract the attention of the people outside, but he couldn't.

Gilligan took a step back, still coughing, and bumped into the bamboo closet he had seen before. It toppled over, right through the palm frond covered wall, leaving a rectangular opening in the back of the hut. Startled, he turned and looked out of the opening into the dense jungle. He waited until he could stop coughing to walk through.

Nothing was familiar, and it frightened Gilligan. The green banana leaves and palm trees looked dangerous to the first mate, as if at any moment a strange creature could jump out and attack him in this alien territory. It was then he realized he was still carrying the mirror. Without thinking, he threw it back into the opening, and winced at the sound of the glass shattering.

That's when he saw it. It was a very strange thing, a black cloud of smoke that appeared to both exist, but not exist. Gilligan's eyes widened in terror, and he tried to call out to someone: someone named "Skipper." But the words could not come out. The sight of the black cloud filled Gilligan with terror, and he stumbled into the opposite direction, narrowly missing palm trees and only dodging them by sheer luck.

Suddenly, Gilligan's legs buckled out from under him, and he lay on the ground, his chest heaving with his effort to breath. He shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the sounds of the mysterious jungle around him as the darkness consumed him once more.

* * *

Okay, I know I don't normally add notes at the end of chapters, but I think this one is worth it. One thing, sorry this chapter took so long. Another thing, sorry how it turned out. I've been really, _really _busy with schoolwork. Research papers, presentations and all that mess. Though I hope you liked this chapter, I sincerely apologize if it seems thrown together.

On other topics, thank you so much for all of your reviews so far. I am really glad you liked the previous chapters enough to review!

Aingeal


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Who are they, Professor?" asked Skipper. Three natives stood across the camp, all dressed in elaborate feathers and paints. Two of them were taller than the Skipper, while the one in the middle was shorter than Mary Ann. Each of them had weapons, and each weapon looked just as deadly as the natives themselves did. It was a stalemate.

"I'm not sure..." the Professor murmured. "Judging by the way they are dressed, they don't appear to be savages."

"If they aren't savages, then I'm Mr. Magoo," Mr. Howell exclaimed.

"Professor, you can't really expect us to believe they dress up like that for a tea party!" Mrs. Howell shrilled.

"Just hear me out," the scientist said. "How do the savages that we've encountered dress?"

"Well, they all have skulls around their waists," Skipper said.

"They have big weapons for chopping," Mary Ann added, whimpering.

"They wear paint," Ginger said. She stole a glance back at the natives, who were watching their every move. "I don't know how they can stand it! I have to wear makeup on stage, but what they wear is ridiculous!"

Mrs. Howell looked away from the native group in disgust. "Ugh, they look like they bought all of their clothes in a _seventh_ hand store!"

"They look like Yale men!" Mr. Howell exclaimed.

"Exactly!" the Professor cried. "Don't you see? The leader's weapon is just made of wood and painted over! Though the other two are big like savages, look at the leader of the party. What does he look like?"

"Scrawny..." Ginger muttered.

"Well, his paint looks very...vibrant?" Mary Ann offered. After listening to what the Professor had said, the natives seemed less and less like they actually meant harm. A sort of a muffled coughing sounded from inside of the hut.

"Gilligan must be awake!" Skipper exclaimed, forgetting about the natives for a moment. He took a step toward the hut, but was stopped by a loud yell from one of the natives. When he turned, he saw that the center one had moved forward and now held his wooden machete like a throwing knife. Obviously, they didn't realize that the Professor had found out about their act.

"Uh, he seems pretty serious about throwing that thing, Professor," Ginger said quietly, shrinking back behind the scientist. In the hut, there was a loud crash, followed by a small yelp of surprise.

"Gilligan!" they cried in unison.

Immediately, Mary Ann took a few steps toward the hut. As quick as a flash, the quietest of the natives was by Mary Ann's side. She screamed when he grabbed her by the arm, yanked her into a defenseless position, and put his knife dangerously close to her throat. The men made a move to get to her, but the big native just threatened the farm girl even more.

Skipper looked back at the other two. The short leader of the party was looking warily at the large native next to him, who mouthed something that was nearly impossible to decipher.

"Professor," Skipper whispered urgently. "I don't think this was part of their plan!"

The Professor looked away from the trembling Mary Ann, trapped by the native's vice grip, to see the other natives. Both of them seemed to be completely immersed in a silent conversation, and by the looks of them, they were just as confused as the castaways were.

"Ping!" the big one called out, turning away from the small leader. Mary Ann's captor reacted by making a grunting sound.

"Ping, Palake kaike ko leki yo hopu kile."

Ping rolled his eyes and let go of Mary Ann. She fell to the ground, catching herself just in time to get back up and flee into the Skipper's arms. Ping made a series of gestures and his companion nodded in agreement.

Keeping their distance, the Skipper asked, "What did he say, Professor?"

"I'm not quite sure..." the Professor murmured. "I believe it was something along the lines of 'Palake says to let go of the girl.' Palake must be the short leader, but I don't see why he would say that. Unless..." He trailed off, loosing himself in his thoughts.

"Unless what, Professor?" Ginger asked, clinging to the scientist's arm.

Ignoring her question, he asked, "Who was the person who you saw 'hovering over Gilligan'?"

"A native girl," the Skipper answered. "Why?"

"That's it!" the Professor exclaimed.

"What's it?"

"These natives aren't savages or headhunters!" the Professor cried, his eyes aglow with new understanding. "They are just trying to serve as a distraction for something."

"Yes, but for what?!" Mr. Howell asked, his annoyance building.

"Thurston," Mrs. Howell warned. "Remember what your doctor said about stress! If you get annoyed, listen to some calming music."

Smiling, Mr. Howell said, "Oh, you're so _right,_ Lovey!" Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he pulled out a small stack of thousand dollar bills and started flapping them around.

"Mr. Howell, she said to listen to music," Ginger said warily.

"I am!" he exclaimed. "Oh, they're playing my song!" He stopped at the sound of glass shattering.

"What was _that_?" the Professor asked. "I don't have anything glass in my hut."

"Oh, Gilligan broke my mirror!" Ginger exclaimed.

"I hope the poor boy didn't get injured," Mrs. Howell lamented.

The hut had grown deathly silent. With each passing second, their worry for Gilligan grew stronger.

The Professor studied the natives' speech, wondering why the leader wasn't speaking.

"Ohu, kome onu!" the big native cried, throwing his arm back. His hand hit against the feathers placed upon Palake's head. The headpiece flew off and landed a few feet away on the ground.

"Ohu, I ama ko koli," the native said, running over to pick up the headpiece. Palake's face flushed red, but he just smiled and nodded.

"What did he say this time, Professor?" Mary Ann asked, the first words she had uttered since Ping had held a knife at her throat. Ping was now back over by his companions, but he was still watching the castaways with his knife in hand.

"I believe he is apologizing," the Professor said, a hint of a smile showed on his face as he watched the big native. When he picked up the feathered headpiece, he stretched it to fit it back on Palake's head, but stretched it a bit too far, causing it to crumble in his hands.

Palake just kept smiling, as if he were completely unaware of what his larger friend had just done to his ceremonial headdress. He nodded, accepting the native's unspoken apology. Then something caught his eye. It was barely noticeable, but the Professor followed Palake's eye motions and spotted a native girl in the brush. She was motioning to Palake.

"Skipper!" the Professor whispered urgently. "Look!"

The Skipper followed the scientist's gaze and gasped. "That's her!" he cried, forgetting to keep his voice down. The native girl jumped, obviously startled.

She looked toward her companions. "Lintao!" she called. "Kome anaka helipi me! I kineke I hawe pounoko hime!"

"What did she say?" Ginger asked.

"Lintao, come and help me. I think I have found him," the Professor responded almost immediately, his expression serious. Lintao obeyed and raced over to the girl's side, and they both disappeared into the foliage.

"Who?" Skipper asked, though he already knew the answer.

"I'm not sure..." the Professor said, holding back his own assumptions. "I am afraid to think this, but, I believe the man they are talking about is..." He paused.

"Who, Professor?" Mary Ann asked, frantic.

The Professor's voice lowered when he answered. "Gilligan..."

* * *

"Lintao, what is report?" T'Pal asked after they were out of the other tribe's earshot. They walked through the foliage down a path of moss the spread throughout the jungle, ignoring everything they saw but the road in front of them.

"Tribe seems frightened of us," Lintao said plainly.

T'Pal sighed. "What you do this time?" she asked, exasperated.

"Nothing!" he cried. "It was Ping! He tried to capture young girl as detraction! He put blade under her throat!"

"Ping..." T'Pal murmured.

"What?" Lintao asked. "Is Ping in trouble?"

T'Pal paused. "No, he not in trouble," she said after a while. In a quieter voice, she added, "He _is_ trouble..."

Lintao didn't hear. "Ne," he said, stopping.

"Yes?" T'Pal asked, turning.

"Why Ping not speak?"

The native girl smiled solemnly. "You remember when Ping came to Aquali?"

"Yes."

"He spoke no words then," T'Pal pointed out. "He was injured, and he gladly accepted offer. Not that he really had choice; anything else would be against custom! Why you wish to know now?"

He gulped. "H-his actions go against custom," Lintao said sternly, his voice faltering just a bit.

"But, that not it," T'Pal said, looking Lintao directly in his brown eyes. "Tell me what real reason it."

"He is friend, but I have not heard voice," Lintao said quietly. "How can I trust him?"

"Just rely on silence."

"What?"

T'Pal smiled. "You tell him secret, he won't tell. He won't tell anything."

Lintao didn't reply. He just nodded his head as if considering the validity of her advice.

T'Pal's tone grew darker. "I have found Gilligan."

"Gilligan?!" Lintao exclaimed. "Where?"

"Just up ahead," she said, pointing. "Come!"

They didn't have to brush far past the bamboo stalks before they found Gilligan sprawled out on the ground. Though T'Pal knew of Gilligan's condition, it still alarmed her at how irregular his breathing was.

"Pick him up," T'Pal commanded. When Lintao bent down to lift Gilligan, she added, "Gently!"

With Gilligan in his arms, he said, "Gilligan not what I expected. Why we do this?" Lintao asked. "Why not let other tribe do this?"

"Because they not know how," T'Pal said softly. "They not know what I am trained in. Also, I have seen. Gilligan must be cured, no matter what."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Gilligan!" Skipper called out into the jungle, his hands cupped around his mouth. _"Gilligan!" _But there was no answer. Behind him was the Professor's hut, complete with a gaping rectangular hole in the wall. The bamboo closet that had been lying on the ground had been moved back inside by the Skipper and the Professor, but there had been no trace of Gilligan in the hut.

"Skipper, I'm worried," the Professor commented.

"What's there to worry about?" Skipper asked sarcastically, but there was not an ounce of humor in his voice. "My little buddy has a disease _you _don't even know about, he's wandered off into the jungle, he's not responding, there are natives out there looking for him, and at least one of them _is _savage. Yeah, nothing to worry about!" The Skipper's face had flushed red, and he opened his mouth to call Gilligan's name one more time, but the Professor stopped him.

"It's useless," he said. "If we want to find Gilligan, we're going to have to go and physically search for him."

"I agree!" Mr. Howell called, stepping through the 'back door'. "We can't just sit here and do nothing. That boy would do the same for any of us; he even saved Mrs. Howell's life once! The only thing Lovey and I could do was make him our son. We must bring him back, and it is imperative that we do!"

"Thurston, you're so brave!" Mrs. Howell cooed, running after her husband. "That poor boy is out there all alone with those dreadful natives, and you still want to rescue him. Let's go out with the Skipper and Professor and search for him, darling!"

"Of course, my dear," Mr. Howell said, taking his wife's hand, "but I'm afraid you will have to stay in camp with Mary Ann and Ginger."

"But Thurston," Mrs. Howell protested, "Mary Ann and Ginger wish to come, too!"

"Mrs. Howell," the Professor cut in, "it's just too dangerous for women to be wandering out in the jungle at a time like this. It would be much safer if you would just stay together and not leave the hut."

"Oh, poo," Mrs. Howell said, disappointed. "And I already picked out what I was going to wear." Then she thought of something. "Thurston! What shall _you_ wear?"

"I don't know!" he cried, as though the thought meant something. "What does one wear to a search and rescue?"

Skipper shook his head. "Mr. Howell, why don't you just wear what you have on?" he interrupted.

"I suppose you're right, Captain," Mr. Howell conceded. "It would be more appropriate to just get going before those natives get back!"

"Skipper!" Mary Ann and Ginger called in unison, racing to the captain's side, each taking one of his arms.

"We want to help!" Ginger protested.

"We're not just going to sit back and worry," Mary Ann added. "Gilligan is our friend and we have to find him! Who knows what those natives could do?"

"You girls must stay in camp," the Professor persisted, "it's the safest place on the island!"

"Yeah," the Skipper agreed. "And if the natives come back, just scream and use whatever you can to defend yourselves."

"Oh, alright," Ginger moaned, letting go of the Skipper.

"I guess you're right," Mary Ann mumbled. "Just bring Gilligan back safe!"

"Will do, Mary Ann," Skipper said.

"Goodbye, Lovey," Mr. Howell said, overly dramatic. "Until we meet again."

"Be careful, Thurston," Mrs. Howell said, blowing her husband a kiss as she and the younger girls stepped back inside.

* * *

"My bag!" T'Pal exclaimed, slapping herself on the forehead. "It gone! I left it back where Gilligan was first found."

Gilligan lay on a patch of palm fronds in front of her, unconscious. Behind them, the fire still crackled.

"Lintao!" she called. Almost immediately, the tall native came running. "The bag I brought to island still where I first found Gilligan. I must have dropped it when big man came."

"I will retrieve!" Lintao exclaimed, excited.

"Wait!" T'Pal shouted, stopping him from running. "Take Palake with you. He can scout way."

"What about Ping?"

"I must have word with Ping," T'Pal said quietly. "He will join you soon. Wait for him at end of path." Lintao did not make any move to get Palake; he just stood, staring uncertainly at the native girl. After a while, T'Pal shouted, "Go!"

Lintao was quick to listen, running and jumping clear over the bamboo stalks that stood in his path. T'Pal smiled and got up, walking over to the foliage where Lintao had just disappeared. Carefully, she reached into a bush and plucked out a small leaf. She returned to Gilligan's side, reaching over to light the tip of the leaf in the snapping flame, watching the steady stream of smoke that rose and then vanished after reaching a few feet. She gently waved it over Gilligan, blowing the smoke towards his direction.

Soon, Gilligan's face began to look soothed. When T'Pal was satisfied, she called out, "Ping!" and got up. By the time she got to the edge of the jungle, she could hear Ping enter the clearing on the other side.

"Ah, Ping!" she said, turning on her feet.

Ping stood defiant, as if ready to take orders. Across his back was a quiver, filled with very crude makeshift arrows and a small bamboo bow.

"Ping," T'Pal said, shaking her head, "you not need to act in that way."

Ping relaxed and let out a sigh, but when he saw the look in T'Pal's eyes, his guard was brought back up.

"Ping, you know custom," T'Pal began. "We not attack others unless we are attacked. You are new, so you may have forgotten, but I know what you said when you came to Aquali." When she got no reaction, she added, "I also know what you said to Palake in morning."

The big native's eyes grew wide in shock and he shook his head, as if to say, "No!"

"I know you said," T'Pal said, a slight smile playing on her lips, "something about Gilligan."

"No!" Ping cried. As soon as he did, he threw his hands up over his mouth, mentally cursing himself for speaking.

"Now," T'Pal said, her tone growing darker, "why did you attack young girl?"

Ping let out a sigh of annoyance. "You know why," he said between gritted teeth. His voice was deep and gravelly, but it did not seem like he had not used it.

"Yes, I do," she said. "You not here for the purpose I am; you here for something completely different."

"Yes," Ping began, smiling bitterly, "no one wishes me to be here, I do not wish to be in Aquali tribe; I am bound, but your tribe customs and my own."

"But your tribe not in the world any longer," T'Pal whispered.

"What you just say?" Ping shouted, his rage building.

Unafraid, T'Pal said, "Your tribe killed by fire."

"When I told you that, you promised not to speak of it!" he cried.

"I had no choice."

"'There is always choice'; is that not what you say?"

T'Pal looked away. "Yes," she said, "I did have choice, and I chose to speak of it, as well as say that I had no choice. You have choice as well."

"What?" He was taken aback, and his curiosity rose at her words. "For what?" he asked.

"From the future I saw, only you can change it," T'Pal said softly. She spun around. "I left my bag in jungle. You are to meet Lintao and Palake at end of path. Go now!"

Something rustled in the bushes. "Palake!" Ping immediately cried, reaching back at his bow. He looked into the foliage and saw a flash of color as someone raced away.

"Stop!" T'Pal ordered. "Meet them at end of path, and do not stir trouble; you have choice."

"But-"

"Enough!" she cried, quickly covering her mouth and looking slowly over at Gilligan. She relaxed when she saw she had not woken him from his peaceful slumber. She sighed. "Now I see why you not talk anymore," T'Pal said, exasperated.

Ping seemed taken aback by this, and he looked angrily at the ground. T'Pal gasped when she saw Ping's face. It could have been just her imagination, or the light, but Ping's eyes were completely covered by a pitch-black shadow that fell over his face.

"G-go and meet them," she said, attempting to maintain her composure, but it did not work.

An acrid smile tinged the big native's lips. When he looked up, though, it was a kind smile. He nodded and spun around, racing off into the foliage.

T'Pal waited until he was out of sight before turning to Gilligan. As she looked up, she nearly jumped. Gilligan was sitting upright, staring at her, his blue eyes filled with fear.

* * *

Skipper pushed hurriedly through the jungle, calling his little buddy's name, though the Professor had advised against it. The scientist and the millionaire had been told to wait further back while the Skipper scouted ahead. Mr. Howell had readily agreed, but the Professor had considered the proposition, then decided it was the best course of action. The tropical plants seemed to claw at him, keeping him away from his closest friend and first mate. He stopped when he came to the place where he had found Gilligan, laying unconscious and limp on the ground.

He surveyed the ground where Gilligan had once lain, and something caught his attention. It was a small cloth bag, sitting on the ground beside a bush.

"That wasn't here before..." Skipper murmured, reaching out and grabbing the bag by the handle. Its contents seemed lighter than air in the big man's hand, but to Gilligan it would have seemed like a bowling ball. He was about to open it when he heard a rustle in the leaves.

Skipper let out a yelp as, suddenly, an arrow shot the bag out of his hand.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Skipper stared in stunned silence at where the bag had once been in his hand. His arm was still raised as though he still held it in his grasp, but the crude arrow holding the cloth bag was stuck in the tree that stood a few meters away. Slowly, he turned his head toward the bag. Without thinking, he took a step toward it, and, as soon as he did, another arrow whizzed through the air, knocking his navy blue hat clean off his head.

Skipper jumped in fright and looked toward the bushes. Not a soul was hiding amongst the foliage. He was about to attempt to get the bag–and his hat–once more, but considering the fact that someone was shooting arrows at him, he decided against it.

"Professor!" he called, pushing himself back down the path he had just made. When he was about halfway to where he had left the two men, the Professor and Mr. Howell came running towards the Skipper.

"What is it, Skipper?" the Professor asked, worried.

"And _where _is your hat?" Mr. Howell asked. "Without it, you look just like my first nanny!" He chuckled to himself, but stopped once he received glares from the others.

"Gee, thanks," Skipper said sarcastically. Sighing, he began: "I found a small bag on the ground, and when I picked it up, someone shot it out of my hand with an arrow."

"Heavens!" Mr. Howell exclaimed.

"Are you hurt?" the Professor asked.

"I'm just fine, thank you," Skipper said. "The same thing happened with my hat when I tried to get the bag. Unless I wanted to be the human one way sign, I didn't go anywhere _near_ the bag!"

"And that was the smart thing to do, Skipper," the Professor commented, "especially if they have that precise aim! Where did this occur?"

"Just up ahead." Skipper pointed up the path. "Follow me."

As soon as those words were spoken, the Professor immediately went up in front. Mr. Howell trailed behind the Skipper like a frightened puppy, and by the time the two reached the Professor, the scientist was already searching the area.

"Where did the arrow land, Skipper?" he asked.

"It didn't land anywhere," the Skipper said.

Before he could continue, Mr. Howell exclaimed, "By George, the Skipper has gone mad!"

"Will you let him finish?" Professor asked.

"Thank you again, Professor," the captain said. "Now, the arrows are stuck in that tree over there." But when he looked, only one arrow stuck in the tree: the one that impaled the Skipper's hat.

"Well, the bag _was _there," he finished, running over to investigate. He grabbed his hat and placed it on his head, the arrow falling to the ground. An unmistakable hole sat smack-dab in the center of the lifesaver on the Skipper's hat.

"Our 'mysterious' shooter must have taken it," the Professor said.

"What's the mystery about who did it?" Mr. Howell asked. "I bet the _Queen Mary _that it was that savage Ping!"

No one said anything after that. They continued to search the ground, as if the arrow had fallen with the bag. After a few minutes, the Professor said, with very little enthusiasm, "I found the arrow."

"Did you find the bag?" the Skipper asked, racing to the scientist's side.

"No, I only found the arrow. It was on the other side of the tree."

"Oh..."

"Why look so downcast, Captain?" Mr. Howell asked when he saw the Skipper's disappointed expression. "We found the arrow, and it could lead us to the path the savages have taken!"

"Of course!" the Professor exclaimed breathlessly. "This arrow could lead us to Gilligan!"

Skipper's eyes lit up. "Well, what are we waiting for? Mark the path and let's tell the women!"

* * *

Gilligan inched slowly away from the native girl, frightened of what she might do. She came towards him, talking in a language he couldn't understand. The only word that seemed relatively familiar was, "Gilligan."

"W-who," he started, but didn't finish because of the sound of his own voice. To him it sounded very childish, and he didn't think it really fit him. Suddenly, he began coughing. His body convulsed as each rigid breath escaped his lips. He put his hands over his mouth, though it didn't help. He did not see the native girl rush over to him, ignored the fact that she put a comforting hand on his back, could not hear nor understand her soft words. The only word he heard was, "Gilligan."

Soon, his coughing came to an end. His chest heaved as he took in big gulps of air. He felt horrible, as if a bus had hit him—twice. It was then that he heard the girl's beautiful voice, singing a song that calmed him, though he could not understand anything. While listening, it seemed, Gilligan felt a bit better.

After she had finished, he decided to attempt to ask again, "W-who are you?"

The girl looked at him, puzzled. "W-who are you?" she repeated.

Gilligan, not realizing that she didn't understand, opened his mouth to reply. As soon as he did, it struck him like a bolt of lightning: he didn't know his own name. He began to tremble, and he threw out his hand as if to search for something familiar. Instead, he felt a pair of hands wrap around his own, warm to the touch and sweet to the distraught boy. He could feel tears bead his eyes as he turned his head and looked into the native girl's beautiful brown eyes. He could not remember anything, but he believed that he knew the girl.

"I-I," he began, stammering, "I don't know...w-who I am..." His voice slowly trailed away and he closed his eyes. His eyes opened wide in surprise as the native girl drew him close to her in a tight embrace. His suspicions then seemed to be confirmed, for her embrace was loving and reassuring.

After awhile, she pulled away and smiled. She pointed at herself and said, "T'Pal."

"T'Pal," Gilligan repeated. "You're T'Pal?"

"I ama T'Pal, iou ko noku kanowu me ieki," T'Pal said with a smile, as though he could understand her, but it was obvious that she knew he couldn't.

"I ama...what?" The boy looked utterly confused. T'Pal seemed to do a much better job at hiding her befuddlement.

She turned her head away from him and looked directly into the fire that crackled just a few feet away. Having not seen it before, Gilligan jumped in surprise.

T'Pal smiled and turned back to Gilligan. In almost perfect English, she said, "You teach me your language, and I teach you of Aquali."

Without thinking, Gilligan replied, "Of course." Once he realized it, his hand shot up over his mouth. "I mean," he began, "I can't teach anybody! I don't even know my own name!"

T'Pal's expression changed once again, back to confusion. "I kineke ke kamala healine kapeli I puko onu iou ike apouko ko weala opu," she said, now gazed out into the dense foliage. "Lintao..." she murmured. "Huli..."

Gilligan's head cocked to the side. "What are you saying?" he asked.

T'Pal turned to him and looked directly into his eyes. "Wahaka ale iou kaiine?" she asked.

"Kaiine..." Gilligan murmured. "That sounds a lot like saying. I wonder if—"

"T'Pal!" a voice called out from the jungle. Suddenly, three natives burst from the foliage. One of the tall ones said, "Ping pounoko ioulo paka!" He was gesturing excitedly at the other tall native, mostly to the small cloth bag in his hand.

T'Pal's eyes lit up. "Lintao!" she cried, running to greet them. "Ping! Mai I ke ike?" She held out her hand, and the tall native grunted, nodding and handing her the bag.

The smallest native, who was even smaller that T'Pal, looked expectantly at the girl's reaction as she searched through the bag's contents. Smiling, she said, "Nowu I kana leaka Gilligan."

The small native boy looked beyond T'Pal and saw Gilligan for the first time. His eyes filled with wonder as he asked, "Kaka ike Gilligan?"

"Ieki," she said with a smile.

"We kana pe palienikiki!" he exclaimed, grinning.

"Ieki, Palake," T'Pal said, giving the boy a thumbs up. "Ko polu ike!"

The native boy nearly jumped for joy. Noticing the weird glances he got from the others, he stood up strait, as if trying to look dignified. Slowly, he walked past his companions and toward Gilligan, T'Pal watching him with an amused grin.

Gilligan stared at the boy, mesmerized. This just made him smile even more as he pointed at himself and said, "Palake."

"Pal...a...ke?" Gilligan asked, amazed at how much the boy looked like the image in the mirror.

Palake nodded. He looked to T'Pal, and she nodded. He pointed at the first mate and said, "Gilligani."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Ginger and Mary Ann squealed in delight.

"You mean you've really found a way to free Gilligan?" Ginger asked.

Mary Ann wrung her hands as she asked, "Can we _please _help him?"

"Oh, I do so ever wish to help poor Gilligan!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed.

Skipper leaned against the communal table and looked out into the jungle as the Professor said, "There are only four of them and six of us. If we all go, we have a chance of overpowering them."

Instead of letting the girls ask, Mr. Howell chirped, "And what, exactly, are those chances?"

The Professor contemplated this for a few moments. Apparently it wasn't fast enough, because the Skipper jumped in.

"Well, Professor?" he prompted. "Go ahead and say it! Whatever it is, I'll help my little buddy, anyway."

"Well," the Professor said, pausing, "my guess is that the odds are one thousand to twenty."

"Well, it's better than nothing!" Mary Ann cried when she saw the dejected looks of her companions.

"Mary Ann's right!" Skipper shouted, standing up straight. "What are we doing standing here when Gilligan could be in serious danger?"

"Not exactly, Skipper," the Professor said, interrupting the captain's pep.

"Oh, what is it this time, Professor?" Ginger asked, annoyed and ready to start the search.

"The tribe we are dealing with may not be savages," the Professor began. "I have done extensive research on the tribes native to this particular region, and the tribe that those people remind me of is the tribe of Aquali. Aquali is a tribe of healers."

"Healers?" Skipper asked. "You mean like doctors?"

"Exactly!"

"Heavens!" Mr. Howell exclaimed. "If _they_ are doctors, I can understand why they invented health insurance! Imagine having an exam with one of _them _as your doctor. You'd have a heart attack right there on the table!"

"Especially with your blood pressure, dear," Mrs. Howell said. "Your doctor said specifically to avoid appointments with natives, particularly the ones whom your father stole land from!"

"He didn't steal!" Mr. Howell cried. "He just...borrowed it and never returned it. He did give them a whole point-zero zero three percent of the profits he made from the land, though!"

"Mr. and Mrs. Howell, we don't have time for this!" the Skipper shouted. Lowering his voice, he said, "Please continue, Professor."

"The Aquali have a certain price for the healing," the Professor said once again.

"What does that mean?" Mary Ann asked, worried.

"What I mean is that whenever they heal someone, they use their own resources. Naturally, since those resources are rare amongst these islands, compensation for the plants and medicine is needed."

"Professor," Skipper began, "what is the price?" This time it was he who was wringing his hands together.

"I don't know the price," the Professor said quietly.

Ginger looked shocked as she said, "But you said–"

"I know what I said," the Professor interrupted. "But no one who has ever paid the price has ever been able to tell about it."

* * *

"Gilligani?!" T'Pal asked in a hushed voice. "That not name I told you!"

"I forgot name!" Palake argued. "I wanted name to sound like Aquali, but I forgot name you said. Gilligani was only on that fit! I am sorry, T'Pal."

"It alright..." she murmured. "But now he think his name is Gilligani!"

"I think you should have gone with Kilikana," Lintao offered.

"That sounds like girl name!" T'Pal said with a giggle. Lintao blushed and looked to Palake, who silently thanked him.

"That is name I was going to pick for me when I came to Aquali..." Lintao said, his face flushing even more as he spoke.

T'Pal smiled and looked off to the side where Gilligan lay, sleeping peacefully by the fire. A few feet behind him stood Ping, who was obviously lost in thought. Over the fire, a flat piece of rock stood on four wooden 'stilts'. On the rock, a small stone cup sat, steaming. T'Pal rolled her eyes and walked over to the big native.

"Ping," she called, wary of the sleeping Gilligan.

Ping seemed utterly lost in his own little world.

"Ping," she said, this time a bit louder.

Ping continued to stare off into space.

"Ping!" she shouted, quickly covering her mouth as she did. She slowly turned to Gilligan to see him undisturbed. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned back to Ping, who was at attention.

"Ping, you supposed to be watching medicine," T'Pal said.

Ping gave her a look that said, "I am not talking!"

"If it boils, I will need to start from beginning." After a while, she added, "Again."

The big native looked solemnly at the ground.

"That not your fault, though!" T'Pal said. "Lintao was watching and he told me it was about to boil. I said take it off fire, so he did—with his hands. It was too hot, so he threw it into jungle." Even as she remembered the scene, it was all too funny and she began to giggle slightly to herself. He hadn't been burned, but his hands were just a bit red.

Ping looked at the cup and pointed, as if to prove that he wouldn't talk again.

"Yes, take it off," T'Pal said, rolling her eyes and smiling.

Immediately, Ping took one of the leaves that sat beside the flames and wrapped it around his hand. Very carefully, he reached over and picked the cup up off of the stone slab. T'Pal looked into the liquid, seeing a reflection of herself on the surface. She waved some of the steam toward her and took a deep breath. Nodding, she turned to her other companions. Palake eyed Ping suspiciously.

"It ready," she said. "Gilligan should awaken in little bit. We wait until then to give him potion."

Just as she spoke, the boy stirred. T'Pal ran over to his side, Ping quick to follow, as Gilligan's eyes flickered open.

At first he looked dazed, wobbling back and forth with dizziness. After he saw the others, he gave a small smile, but it was obvious in his eyes that he didn't entirely trust them. He looked at T'Pal and said something in his language, and was rewarded with awkward glances from the natives.

"T'Pal," Lintao began, "you know what he is saying?"

"No," T'Pal said. After awhile, she added, "Not exactly. I think he asked 'What going on?'"

"How you know that?" Palake asked, amazed.

"I not know," she said, smiling. "I make guess based on tone of voice."

Gilligan looked back and forth between them as they spoke, his confusion growing with every word.

"Ping," T'Pal began, "Give Gilligan_i_ medicine."

Ping grunted and pointed at the cup.

"Right, it is too hot," she agreed, nodding. "Hold it up to mouth, and he will drink."

Ping did as instructed, and just as T'Pal predicted, Gilligan drank the liquid wholeheartedly. After Ping took the cup away from him, Gilligan was smiling. His skin seemed to become a shade closer to normal. He said something with a big grin on his face, and all the natives could do was smile back.

"Uh, what he say?" asked Lintao, still smiling.

"I not know," T'Pal said with a shrug.

Gilligan said something else, but it was in question.

"Gilligani," T'Pal said. Gilligan opened his mouth to reply, but she stopped him. "You not know language, I not know yours. You not know what I say now, either. But I will teach you! When I do, you can teach me, too."

* * *

Ginger and Mary Ann stayed close together as the group of six trekked through the foliage. Mrs. Howell clung to her husband's arm as he held on the Skipper's shoulder. The captain had given up on trying to shake him off earlier and now just ignored the millionaire's grip. The Professor had once again taken the lead, expertly tracking where they had found the arrow.

"It was just up ahead," the Professor assured them, and the others seemed less paranoid.

Sure enough, the group came to a small break in the foliage.

"Is this it, Professor?" Ginger asked, looking at the green banana leaves that seemed to form a perfect circle around the cramped clearing.

"Yes," the Skipper answered for him, "and it's also the place I found Gilligan!" Reaching his over, he plucked Mr. Howell's hand off his shoulder.

Mrs. Howell looked at her husband's hand and smiled. "Thurston," she began, "you're so brave; you aren't even shaking!"

"No," Mr. Howell said, "I'm too scared to!"

"I may have been mistaken..." the Professor murmured.

"For what?" Skipper asked.

"What the odds are!"

"Oh, does that mean that they're better?" Mary Ann asked, hopeful.

"Uh..." The Professor paused. "The odds are a thousand to one!"

"Why do you say that?" Skipper asked, vexed.

The Professor gave him one look, and the Skipper nodded in agreement, eying the millionaire and the women.

"Oh, rescuing Gilligan is hopeless!" Ginger suddenly cried out.

"Don't say that, Ginger!" Mary Ann exclaimed, shocked that her friend would say such a thing.

"It isn't _completely_ hopeless," Skipper said, but his words had the opposite effect of what he was hoping for.

"See?" Ginger asked.

"See what?" Mrs. Howell asked, confused. "There's nothing to see except this dreadful foliage!"

"You're so right, Lovey," Mr. Howell agreed. "There are just too many leaves on the _cheaply_ _vulgar_ island!"

No one had noticed until now that the Professor seemed to have wandered off.

"Professor?" Mary Ann called.

"Over here!" the scientist shouted back. "I believe this trail _does _lead to Gilligan!"

* * *

Once again, I am terribly sorry how long this chapter took. I have just been so busy! Also, I think I may have given myself a concussion...Anyways, thank you for all of your wonderful reviews, and for your patience!

Oh, and one more thing. I have been making a key for the Aquali language for those who want to know what the natives are saying. At first I thought it would only take a few days, but then it seemed the world was put on the other students' and my shoulders. I am just about finished! Look for it sometime this week or at the beginning of next. Thank you for reading!

Aingeal


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Gilligan stared at where T'Pal was pointing, more confused than ever. Her finger was pointed to a tall palm tree that stretched far above them.

"Palama le," she said.

"Palm tree," Gilligan argued.

"Palm...tree?" T'Pal smiled. "Palama le, palm tree!" she exclaimed.

"Oh!" Gilligan cried. "I get it! Palama le means palm tree!"

Lintao, Ping, and Palake looked at Gilligan with wide eyes.

"T'Pal, wahaka koeki palama le hawe ko ko wike anikine?" Palake asked.

T'Pal put her index finger over her lips to shush him, then pointed at Lintao.

"Lintao," she stated.

Gilligan nodded. "I know that's Lintao!" he exclaimed, but blushed when he saw T'Pal hadn't finished yet.

"Kalimepe," she said, moving her arms to claw at the air.

"Kalimepe?" Gilligan asked. "Uh, cat?" When he saw the expression on T'Pal's face, he shook his head. "Wait!" he cried. "Lemme think a minute..."

"Kalimepe," T'Pal said again, this time walking over to the palm tree and putting her arms around it.

"Kalimepe... Palm tree..." Gilligan trailed off, attempting to put the pieces together.

While waiting for his answer, the natives seemed to grow bored, murmuring idly amongst themselves.

They jumped, startled, when Gilligan cried, "I've got it!"

"Kalimepe," T'Pal said one more time, regaining her composure and walking back to his side.

"Means climb!" he exclaimed, slamming his fist into his hand in realization, afterward gasping and shaking his hand.

Smiling, it was Lintao who replied. "Climb?" he asked. It seemed he was the only one besides T'Pal at least paying _some _attention to the new words.

"Yeah!" Gilligan exclaimed. "Kalimepe means climb!" He turned to T'Pal. "Right?" he asked.

"Climb... Kalimepe..." she murmured. "Right?"

"You also said Lintao, so Lintao climb palm tree?" Gilligan asked. "Lintao kalimepe palama le?"

"Eh?!" Lintao jerked his head over to look at them. "Wahi me?" he asked.

T'Pal smiled and waved her hand. "Iuko kikine!"

Lintao seemed relieved by what she said. "Koku," he said.

"You've taught me a lot," Gilligan said suddenly. "So, thanks for that. I just don't understand why."

"Why?" T'Pal asked, confused yet again.

"I don't know," Gilligan responded, not realizing what she meant. "I just think that I know you, but if I know you, shouldn't I know your language?"

* * *

The castaways trekked onward through the dense foliage, trying their best not to make a sound as well as keep up with the fast paced Skipper; neither worked.

"Skipper, could you slow down a little?" pleaded Ginger, regretting that she still wore her high-heels.

"Shhh!" the Professor warned. "The natives could be close by!"

"Oh," Mary Ann whimpered, "I thought you said they were a tribe of healers!"

"That were supposed to be gentle," added Mr. Howell, almost pleading that he was right.

"Oh, I never said that," the Professor said, wide eyed. "I just said they were a tribe of healers, but they are also trained in combat."

This made the Skipper halt. "Did you say trained in combat?" he asked, turning around, just in time for the other castaways to nearly run right into him.

"Yes," the Professor said, seemingly as calm as ever. "You see, though the entire tribe know how to heal minor injuries and illnesses, only two in the tribe are able to heal major problems, both of which are women."

"That would explain that girl we saw earlier!" Mary Ann exclaimed.

"Oh, she's a healer?" Mrs. Howell asked. "Well, that explains that dress she was wearing. It is so last broadcast of _Medical Fashion_."

The Professor rolled his eyes and continued. "The women of the tribe are the ones who are trained the most in healing. The two that are ranked as the tribe's healers are picked from their childhood behavior."

"You mean like how they play together?" Skipper asked.

"Well, not exactly," the Professor said. "What I mean is that they are picked by things that they do during adolescence. If they show greater capabilities than others, then that factors in to who is picked. Also if they have patience, kindness, and tolerance."

Skipper folded his arms. "So you know all of this about them yet you don't know what the price of healing is?"

"Yes," the Professor said, completely oblivious to the man's tone. "No one has ever really been _that _close to them. They may study them for a month or two to collect data but when they hear about that price I mentioned, they are too afraid of that price to stay."

Skipper shivered at the many thoughts that raced through his head. That price could be anything! It could be life threatening for someone, or it could just be a bowl of fruit. It could be never seeing that person again, or it could be a jar of dirt. By the look on the Professor's face, Skipper believed that the college teacher knew more than he was letting on.

* * *

T'Pal looked up at the pale pink sky. It would soon be nightfall, and the first stars would peek out from under the blanket of the sky to watch over the earth. That also meant that it would have been a full day that she had spent teaching Gilligan, and learning just as much as he did. She looked into the clearing where her companions sat.

Though T'Pal had only known Gilligan for that day, she considered him a great friend. For reasons she couldn't explain, she felt as though Gilligan knew of his position: that he didn't come from Aquali, that he was with strangers. Yet, he was as happy as someone who had caught the biggest fish in the tribe, and he didn't even attempt to ask why the natives were so nice to him— partly because he didn't know how.

Even with these truths, she still found herself smiling when she saw Palake trying to communicate with Gilligan and become his friend, but she couldn't help but notice Palake's slight glances of suspicion toward Ping every now and then. This worried her, because Ping was doing the exact same thing, though his were far less subtle. Lintao idly talked to Ping, and Ping just nodded as Lintao pretended that he had replied.

Somehow, she felt as though she really shouldn't interrupt them, that she was not needed at that time. If anything happened between Ping and Palake, Lintao was more than capable of stopping it. So, she walked further into the slowly darkening jungle, letting her mind go blank as she slid through the foliage. The island still amazed her, even now, though they had arrived at least one sunrise ago.

T'Pal continued to walk, loosing herself in the sights of the dimly lit jungle. With all the sounds of the insects as the island sung her song, this could truly be considered an island that never sleeps, that always watches over her inhabitants. _But Aquali does not inhabit this island_, T'Pal thought. _Just how much longer will she protect us?_

Then she heard a voice. No, not just one voice. They were murmuring voices, mixed together, as though there were many. T'Pal parted the leaves and peered into the tiny clearing that contained a small cave. A dim, flickering light shone in the opening. Out of curiosity, T'Pal crept slowly towards the mouth of the cave and leaned in just enough to see the six castaways, sitting around a small fire and huddled together to keep warm. All of them were trying to express their worries at once, but were doing so quietly. That isn't what worried T'Pal.

What worried her was that they were searching for Gilligan, that they were so close.

And she hadn't even finished her mission yet.

* * *

Sorry again for how long this chapter took. I've been trapped with science work lately! Which is a first, 'cause normally it's math...We were given an ocean project to complete this week with about 37 assignments (I think I lost count) on it, and each of them were painstakingly difficult. Then, she doesn't even grade it when the kids turn it in, and gives them all zeros before she realizes that the projects are in the cabinet! She flunked everyone in all of her classes because of that! No one got above a 75(D)!

Anyway, sorry for pushing all of that on anyone who read that. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read the story and for all of your wonderful reviews!

Aingeal


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Skipper looked searchingly through the dark foliage, looking for any sign of his little buddy. He raced through the jungle, checking every cave, log, and rock he could find. But no little buddy.

Not even a trace.

Not even a trace of a trace.

_Absolutely nothing._

That's when he thought the worst: _What if Gilligan had never existed? What if he had been a sweet, sweet dream that he had let slip from his mind, one that was now impossible to find again? _Skipper shook the thought away, but it kept coming back. Gilligan couldn't have been a dream. He was all too real. He and the other castaways had become close friends over the years, and now he was missing in action.

But—what if the other castaways weren't real, either? What if this had been an elaborate fairytale thought up by a sick psychopath to make Skipper Jonas Grumby see a light that was so bright he could almost cry, then engulf his world in darkness? Nothing made sense to the Skipper in this dark, depressing world. He remembered sunshine, which was no longer here. He remembered his days in the navy, which had ended. He remembered meeting his little buddy, who had been kidnapped by natives.

And who was no longer here.

Pushing his way through the foliage, his thoughts only made him want to find Gilligan faster, to prove his tortured mind wrong. But all he found was a tropical jungle shrouded in unrelenting darkness. What if he couldn't find Gilligan? What if he couldn't find anyone? Would he have failed? Would he have broken his promise? Or would he have never have made the promise in the first place? Protecting Gilligan...protecting everyone...had he failed?

Suddenly, the plants dissolved around him and he found himself in a clearing. The sky overhead was black, and thick with smokey clouds. What he saw in the center of that clearing made his blood freeze.

In the center of that clearing lay Gilligan's broken body, covered in dark red blood that stained even his crimson shirt.

"Gilligan!" Skipper wailed, running over to his little buddy's lifeless side. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stared into the glassy blue eyes that were once filled with laughter. He closed his eyes, burying his face in his hands as the tears kept coming. And coming.

"You're too late, Skipper," a voice ringed in his ears. It was Gilligan's. He jerked his head up to see Gilligan staring at him, with a face that belonged in a horror movie as blood trickled down his forehead. The crimson liquid fell down his ghost white cheeks like tear drops. The Skipper let out a small shriek and fell back.

"You're too late, Skipper," he repeated. "You can no longer save me. You failed me!"

Skipper closed his eyes, trying to block those horrible words from ringing over and over in his head, but it was no use. _Failed him...failed Gilligan._

"We have to get moving," Gilligan said suddenly. "We have to leave."

"What?" Skipper asked, his eyes opening for just a split second, before he shut them tight once more.

"We have to get moving," Gilligan said again. "You have to get up. Wake up!"

Suddenly his voice began to mix with the voice of a girl. When he opening his eyes again, he was staring into the eyes of Mary Ann.

"The Professor told me to wake you up," she explained. "He went to check if any of the natives were outside."

Skipper sat up and groaned, rubbing his eyes as he tried to rid his mind of the images of his dream. Mary Ann looked at him with concern in her eyes.

"Say, are you feeling okay, Skipper?" she asked. "You were moaning a bit in your sleep. You didn't have a nightmare, did you?"

"No, I didn't," he lied.

Mary Ann raised an eyebrow but didn't press it any further. "Anyway," she began, "everyone else is just about ready to leave. The Professor says that it shouldn't be much further to the natives' camp!"

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Skipper asked, perking up. "Let's go!"

* * *

Gilligan watched with curiosity as T'Pal paced back and forth, mumbling something inaudible to herself. Not that he could fully understand her if he _could_ hear her, but it sounded like she was upset. Lintao sat between Ping and Palake, while the two glared menacingly at each other.

Palake seemed like a really nice kid, so why would he look at Ping with such anger? Ping never spoke, but by his demeanor, he seemed nice, as well. Something wasn't right at all between the natives, and even Gilligan could tell it.

It was Lintao who spoke up first.

"Wahi ale iou pakine, T'Pal?" he asked.

"Uh..." Gilligan said, attempting to decipher what Lintao had just said. "Wahi...Why are you...something, T'Pal. Pakine...Pacing? Why are you pacing, T'Pal?"

"I ama pakine pekauke I ama liine ko kineke opu a palana ko kawe ke mikionu anaka kepi a wala palomu paleakine ouko!" she snapped.

Lintao shrunk back, giving Palake enough room to mouth things at Ping.

Gilligan's eyes widened. "Wow," he whispered. "I sure wish I could learn faster!"

T'Pal shook her head and her expression softened. "I ama koli," she said, smiling. "I kike noku meana ko ieli. I neki ko komupuleke kike mikionu, aka kolu."

Lintao nodded and used his hand to cover Palake's mouth. The boy tried to remove the brave's hand, but soon gave up and slumped over, defeated.

"I kanowu," Lintao replied, nodding his head. "Kike ike komekine kaka I unokelikanaka."

"Well, at least you know what she said," Gilligan said, pouting slightly. "I don't even know half of what you said!"

The natives didn't appear to hear, yet they didn't continue their conversation. They seemed to be listening to something; even Palake and Ping stopped glaring at each other and sat frozen in their positions.

T'Pal broke the silence. "Ping," she began, "kome wike me." She motioned for him to follow behind her, and the native complied willingly.

Lintao looked confused, but T'Pal smiled at him, and he nodded. Palake crawled over so that he was sitting next to Gilligan as they watched the two enter the dense foliage and disappear.

* * *

"Ping," T'Pal said after they had fallen out of hearing range of the others. "What going on between you and Palake?"

Ping didn't reply.

"Ping, I know you talk," T'Pal said. "Tell me!"

"Palake heard me talk," he said. "He knows what was said. He knows too much!"

"But you have no need to show malice," she said calmly, turning around to face Ping. "There no need for bitterness. He heard, so what? Why that bother you?"

"Because..." Ping trailed off, his eyes cutting away from the girl.

T'Pal smiled. "You have no reason, so apologize! Why not speak?"

"Because I said I not speak, ever!" Ping cried.

"You speak now."

The big native's eyes widened. "I–"

"I know why you not speak," she began, "and I know why you angry."

"Then why you ask?" Ping looked at her, utterly confused.

"I wanted to see if you know reason." T'Pal gave him a reassuring smile. "Gilligan not a replacement for you. You only became Aquali brave because of your Origin Tribe. After fire, you were forced to live with Aquali, and join Aquali. You want to prove you exist, not be member of Aquali. You want to prove yourself! You need voice for that."

Ping looked to the ground. "You make much sense, T'Pal. But, why..." His voice trailed off again as he was consumed with thought.

"Remember what was said before," T'Pal said. "There is always choice." With that, the native girl moved around Ping and back the way they came. Ping stared after her for a while, then ran to catch up to her. When they got back, Palake, Lintao, and Gilligan sat in a circle, trying to communicate with each other and laughing at their attempts.

"Have you seen anyone from other tribe, Lintao?" T'Pal asked, almost sarcastically.

Lintao jerked his head to look at her. "I was to look?"

T'Pal shook her head and looked at Palake. Before she could say anything, the wide eyed boy shook his head.

T'Pal looked at the ground and said in a quiet voice, "What is outcome of this mission? Even stars do not know."

* * *

"Shhh!" the Professor warned, looking back at his companions.

"Well!" Mrs. Howell whispered, vexed.

"I mean, really," Mr. Howell added. Ginger and Mary Ann ignored the millionaires and hid behind the Skipper and the Professor, wide eyed at the natives' voices.

Skipper looked at the four natives, and at Gilligan. If it wasn't for his friends, restricting him, he would have jumped out of the bushes and ran strait to Gilligan, picking him up and hugging him as he ran back to camp.

But something was strange. Gilligan looked just fine, sitting among those natives. He was still wearing the Professor's clothing, which were far too big, and he looked as though he was never ill. He sat in a circle with the natives, smiling at them, nodding his head to words he probably couldn't understand.

_Just like he does with the Professor_, Skipper thought, a small smile tugging at his lips at the memory. It quickly faded as his mind tried to come up with a way to save his little buddy.

One look at the Professor's face and he could tell he was doing the same thing.

"_Professor,_" he whispered. "I'm going around to the other side of the clearing. Maybe I can distract them and you can rescue Gilligan!"

"But what if they get you?" Ginger asked, fearful.

"We need you just as much as we need Gilligan!" Mary Ann added.

"It seems like the logical approach."

"Professor—" the girls and the millionaires protested.

"The Skipper knows evasive maneuvers from his days in the navy," the Professor explained. "He will make it back."

"Thanks, Professor!" Skipper said, turning through the jungle and making his way slowly around the rim of the natives' camp.

* * *

Okay, thanks to the invention of the delete key, this is the seventh rewrite! I really apologize if some parts seem...not right...or whatever. But anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Aingeal


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Skipper could spot the Professor and the others from where he was crouching behind the bushes. He desperately tried to think of a detraction to use, but his worry for Gilligan had taken over his 'logical' mind. Though Gilligan seemed safe for the time being, amongst the three warriors and the medicine woman, he couldn't help but think that Aquali had some motive other that healing Gilligan in mind. And the Professor's silence about the price needed to be paid only made him worry more.

He glanced around for something to inspire an idea, but all he found were a couple of rocks.

Suddenly, an idea formed in his mind. He reached out and grabbed one of the rocks, quickly throwing it through the jungle beside him- close to the border, but not close enough to where it landed in the clearing. The rock flew into the foliage and out of the Skipper's sight, rustling leaves as it went. It must have hit something hard, for there was a loud _clack_.

The native girl froze. She looked in the direction of Skipper. It looked, for a moment, as though she saw him, and he breathed a sigh of relief when she turned instead to where the rock had landed.

"Lintao!" she called. "Ko ke waka make kaka noike."

Lintao responded quickly, springing up from his spot and bolting to where the native girl had gestured. Gilligan shared a look of shock with the other two native men.

"It actually worked," Skipper murmured, his voice barely a whisper. He picked up the other rock, this one larger, and threw it in the opposite direction, smiling when he heard the rustling followed by a loud_ thud!_

The native girl looked in his direction once more, but once again, she turned away as though she did not see him or wasn't even aware of his presence.

"Ping!" she called. "Iou, ko."

Ping sprang up so fast he was almost a blur in the Skipper's eyes. He dashed across the clearing and into the jungle.

"I don't believe it," the Skipper whispered.

He continued to watch the remainder of the natives, though what they had counted as an actual threat had left. The native girl walked over to the youngest native. When the Skipper saw the boy's appearance, he gasped. The boy, in many ways, resembled a smaller version of Gilligan, save for his brown eyes instead of Gilligan's bright blue ones.

That is when he saw the Professor. He was still concealed by the foliage, but Skipper could see he was motioning him to do something. The Skipper shrugged, and the Professor motioned more frantically. Apparently, he assumed that Skipper had gotten the message this time, for he got up and raced into the clearing, followed quickly by Mr. Howell.

The Skipper sprang into action, jumping up from his spot and bolting into the clearing. By the time he had reached the Professor and Mr. Howell, they were already attempting to restrain the small native boy.

Skipper grabbed the native girl by the arm, locking her into place. She did not seem the least bit surprised by the sudden invasion, yet she still struggled to break free of Skipper's vice-grip.

"Gilligan, little buddy!" Skipper exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're okay! Go back with the girls, and we'll handle the natives."

"Let go of T'Pal!" Gilligan cried, as though he hadn't heard what the Skipper had said.

The Skipper looked stunned. "But, Gilligan, you should go back to camp!" His grip loosened just enough for T'Pal yanked her arm free.

"This is camp," Gilligan said as T'Pal walked back over to his side.

The Professor and Mr. Howell didn't loosen their grip on Palake, but they watched the Skipper worriedly.

"Skipper," the Professor began.

"Gilligan," Skipper interrupted, as though the other two weren't even there. "Don't you want to come back with us? Your friends?"

Gilligan's eyes clouded over and he looked at the ground. "I..." His hand shot up to his head and he winced. "I...don't know you!" he cried.

Mr. Howell and the Professor were shocked by this, and they let go of Palake, who ran in front of T'Pal protectively. Skipper closed his eyes, attempting not to betray his emotions to the others, but his sorrow was obvious.

"I don't know you," Gilligan repeated, "but I...do know you. I don't know you, then why..."

"Gilligan," the Professor said, comforting both the first mate and Skipper, "you do know us. You just don't remember us, but you _will_! You must!"

"That's right, my boy," Mr. Howell said. "It's either that or I'm going to fine you!"

The Professor was about to say something to contradict that, but the look on the millionaire's face made him realize how sentimental that statement was meant to be. It was then that Mary Ann, Ginger, and Mrs. Howell came into the clearing, racing over to the others.

"Oh, Gilligan," Mary Ann said, on the brink of tears, "please remember! We all love you very much!"

"I know I never told you this, Gilligan," Ginger began shakily, "but you are like a little brother to me. The best little brother a girl could have!"

"Thurston and I consider you a son!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed sadly.

T'Pal took Gilligan's hand comfortingly, and Skipper instinctively took a step forward. T'Pal didn't flinch, she just looked at sadly at the sky as Gilligan began to tremble. A single tear slid down his cheek, and that was enough to pierce the sea captain's heart.

"Gilligan, little buddy," he said softly, moving towards his friend. Just as he reached out his hand to Gilligan, a loud cry rung out through the jungle as Lintao and Ping burst into the clearing, teeth bared and eyes burning with rage.

* * *

Okay, I am seriously sorry about how long this chapter took, how short it is, and the lack of... I don't know what it's lacking, but it's lacking something! I don't really like this chapter...

This chapter took forEVER because every time I sat down to write, I guess I just didn't really _feel_ like writing. I said, "I'll write it tomorrow," or something along the lines of that. The next thing I know, it's been a week! I seem to be apologizing a lot, and I'll apologize again. The next chapter will be up soon! Promise! Anyway, as much as I don't like this chapter(or its length) but I hope you enjoyed it.

Aingeal


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Gilligan saw Ping knock out two of the strangers, both men. It was the two whose names he hadn't learned–but he had learned! He knew them! But, he didn't know them. His head was starting to hurt, trying to make sense of it all.

Gilligan heard the three women scream, and saw Ping grab them. Each one of them looked as though they were fighting back tears, but Ping still wouldn't let go of their arms.

"No," he whispered.

Gilligan saw Skipper, the one who had reached out to him, be yanked away by Lintao. The look of hurt in that man's eyes—not physical but emotional! When the man had first charged into the clearing, he was joyful. No, he wasn't joyful at capturing two natives; he was joyful at seeing Gilligan. Why? Why would a complete stranger be joyful at seeing him alive?

But, he was no stranger!

"No..."

He saw Palake run over to Ping and take the youngest woman, holding her hands together as though he could bind them. T'Pal raced over to Palake and told him something. He immediately let go of the girl, and she hurried over to the two unconscious men, T'Pal trailing her.

Images flashed through Gilligan's mind, too fast for him to see. Only one of the images stayed: the image of Skipper and the others, all sitting at a table. They were laughing and enjoying themselves, and just seeing it made Gilligan smile.

"No," he murmured again. Suddenly, he cried, "Stop!"

All the natives froze, giving enough time for the castaways to break free.

"Uh...Palienikikipe!" Gilligan exclaimed. "Um...Palomu...poku kikeki!"

T'Pal smiled at him. "Koku," she whispered. She then watched as one of the men began to stir.

Lintao looked confused, and Palake grinned. Ping closed his eyes, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze.

"What did he say?" Skipper asked, to no one in particular. He heard a groan and turned to see the Professor sitting up, with his hand to his head.

"He said," the Professor began, "friendship. From both sides."

"What does that mean?"

"It's a phrase that is only used by the Medicine woman, or people of high honor," the Professor explained. "Normally to stop a war. It means that the speaker is friends with the other side, as well as their fellow tribesmen. They never hurt friends, or friends of friends. I don't understand why they would listen to _Gilligan_, though..."

"Had a little too much bubbly at the party..." a voice muttered. They both turned to see Mr. Howell sitting up, dazed.

"No you didn't, Howell," Skipper said, "you were knocked on the head by Ping. And there wasn't even a party!"

Gilligan smiled, but that smile soon faded as he watched T'Pal.

The native girl had moved toward her warriors and was murmuring something to them, soft and inaudible to everyone else. The women Ping had captured ran frantically to the Skipper and Mr. Howell.

The small brunette still stayed by the Professor.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yes," the scientist replied. "Thank you, Mary Ann."

"Oh, Thurston!" the older woman cried, holding Mr. Howell's hand.

"I'm fine, Lovey," Mr. Howell assured. "Or, at least, I will be after J. P. Morgan decides to stop turning in his grave!"

"Whatever do you mean, darling?"

"Everything is spinning!"

It was then the red-head decided to speak. "Skipper, how are we going to stop the natives?"

Skipper grinned. "Gilligan's done a pretty good job already."

Gilligan still stared, mesmerized, at the natives, his eyes resting mainly on Ping. The big native's hands were twitching with annoyance, and he looked to be holding himself back from something.

T'Pal turned to the castaways and began to speak. "I ama koli kaka we hawe kaukeki kuko loupole."

Skipper looked questioningly at the Professor, who said, "She is sorry for the trouble they've caused."

"Mi mikionu waka ko pineke komeone ko pe ke mekikine womana'aka hru'fir, puko he haka palienikiki hele anaka I kanoku kake hime awai."

Gilligan's eyes widened in surprise.

"What did she say, Professor?" Ginger asked.

"Something about her mission, but I can't translate it!" the Professor exclaimed. "She was to find something for the high medicine woman. In other words, herself."

"But what?" Mary Ann asked.

"One can only guess. Fortunately, she would feel guilty if she took Gilligan away."

T'Pal smiled at Gilligan sadly. She took a step back. "We wile leawe konu."

"They're going to leave!" the Professor exclaimed. "That means Gilligan gets to come back with us!"

Gilligan jerked his head toward the castaways, then back to T'Pal.

"You knew..." he murmured, a pained expression on his face. T'Pal looked confused for a moment, but then nodded. "You didn't tell me of my past..."

That was when Ping sprang forward, and his hands locked around Gilligan's throat.

* * *

Ugh! The time, and the length, _again_! I am really, really, really sorry for the wait. I just got caught up in a whole bunch of stuff these past few weeks! One thing was studying for midterms, and another is a little personal but I'm happy about it! :D

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm sorry for the wait, and then sorry for how short it is!

Aingeal


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